


I Think We're a Love Song

by morning_sun



Series: I Think We’re a Love Song [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: Absolutely Filthy, Aged-Up Character(s), Craig and Tweek, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, There's a little bit of plot tho, You Have Been Warned, creek - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-17 03:46:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10585785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morning_sun/pseuds/morning_sun
Summary: "It's always been you."This is just a two chapter little fic left here purely for the sake of smut. You're welcome.





	1. This is Real

 

_I Think We’re a Love Song_

* * *

 

* * *

 

 

_Freshman Year, First Day_

 

Standing outside of the High School, Tweek couldn’t help but feel as though things would be different now. Change seemed inevitable, and perhaps it had already started? He’d had a growth spurt over the summer. And he’d started wearing screen tees and polos to avoid the cumbersome buttons ups he’d attempted in both Elementary and Middle School. He’d joined the swim team last year- prompted by teammates Clyde and Kyle when they learned that he was more than a proficient swimmer, and with that had come a slight thinning out of his midsection (though, to his dismay, his cheeks still clung to adolescence- round and babyish and not at all a look he was pleased with).

But this was High School, his first year, and the building seemed to loom menacingly before him-  his feet frozen on the sidewalk as he stared at its overbearing presence. It seemed to taunt him, seemed to darkly promise change of the worst kind.

Dread was seeping into every one of Tweeks pores as his thoughts swirled with distorted images of Craig. Sure, he’d been a fake boyfriend to the dark haired boy for the last five years… but this was _High School_. It seemed… different, somehow. They were getting older. And High School… it felt like a new chapter of his life was about to start.  And Tweek, with shaking and clammy hands and jerking shoulders, couldn’t help but feel that this was the time when he and Craig would finally part. He’d been waiting for it, dreading it, body tense with the cringing sheltering that comes just before a physical blow.

Tweek had been waiting for the day when Craig would look at him and say with a shrug, _“I guess we can stop pretending now.”_

Tweek had to close his eyes as an onslaught of pain shot through his body. His heart wrenched just thinking of the cool and phlegmatic way that Craig might end things.

Not that there was much to end. They might hold hands on public ( _Oh Jesus,_ he wondered if Craig had started to notice his sweaty palms when they locked fingers?). And they might hang out, might share a connection that placed both of them in constant easy conversation. And sure, they even told people they were dating. But…

Tweek knew it wasn’t real.

Craig was straight. And Tweek was… Well, it didn’t matter.

They would start High School, and Craig would get to interact with more girls- Jesus, they seemed to swarm the front entrance to the school even now, and Tweek wondered how he had missed so many of them all through middle school. And beyond South Park High Craig would travel to other schools, taken to other mountain towns for away football games, and he’d be given plenty of opportunity to charm the local cheerleaders, and he’d leave Tweek alone to grieve the loss of this one sided relationship.

“ _I’m so stupid,”_  he thought. _“How did I let this happen to me?”_

It was a question he’d asked himself many times. Saying he was Craig's boyfriend had been an easy way to alleviate a situation that had been out of both of their control all those years ago. And, at the time, it had been easy to lie to himself and say that this was all just a temporary solution.

But, he’d always known it was a lie.

He’d liked Craig… God. He felt like he’d liked Craig forever.

Tweek felt his body sway a bit, and he had to remind himself not to hold his breath. It was all going to end. Sooner or later, it was all going to end, and this stupid red brick building felt like the beginning of a swift fall into heartache and depression.

And then, without a sound or a whisper, a hand grasped his firmly, fingers lacing his own in a tight grip. He jumped, even knowing without a look who the appendage belonged to.

Craig stood a head taller than him, black hair obscured by his blue chullo hat and cobalt eyes trained down on Tweek. He wore a serious expression, but his brows furrowed just slightly, and Tweek wondered if that meant concern (a shrill voice in his head seemed to screech that it did, and his palms began to sweat).

“You alright?”

Tweek felt himself nod. “S-sure. Just… Just, ngh, just nervousIguess!”

Craig frowned down at him. “We’ll be fine, Tweek,” he said, and Tweek felt his heart stumble.

_We._

He couldn’t speak, only nod and squeeze Craig's hand.

They walked through the front doors, together.

 

* * *

 

 

_Sophomore Year, Second Quarter_

 

Craig couldn’t let Tweek know. Not about this.

His fist met the chin of an upperclassman, and he grinned as the Senior that had at least a hundred pounds on him stumbled backwards, slamming into the lockers that surrounded them.

“Fuck you,” he snarled at the boy, teeth bared and stance wide, ready for the inevitable collision as his opponent gathered himself.

They stood in the locker room, football uniforms in varying degrees of removal, surrounded by teammates that pushed away the friends that might like to jump to one of their aides. Stan and Token were being forcibly held back, and the senior he’d punched had three friends that had all been shoved to the outside of the dense cluster of bodies that surrounded them.

The senior, a large linebacker named Hal with brown hair and hands like hams, rubbed his jaw and rolled his shoulders, feet stumbling a bit as they tried to gain purchase.

“Come on, dick bag,” snarled Craig. “You were all talk a minute ago. Fucking try me.”

Hal grunted, spitting blood onto the floor and clenching his fists.

It’s not like this was the first time Craig had been called a fag. Hell, he’d been called worse by better. But a rage had washed over him when, as they’d begun removing shoulder pads and nursing the pains of a staggering loss, Hal had said, “Fuck Craig, I knew you fags couldn’t play football. Maybe that twitchy boyfriend of yours could catch a skin better than you?”

He’d grunted in response, ignoring the boy and sitting on a bench in front of his locker- kicking off his shoes and peeling off sweat soaked socks. But Hal had continued, clearly wanting to place blame on _someone_ for the Cow’s fourth consecutive loss.

“I see that bugged out little twerp in the stands all the time, you know. Your little boyfriend cheering you on. Maybe if he kept his dick out of your ass you’d stop fucking up all those plays.”

Craig stood then, aware that the locker room had gone silent.

“Shut the fuck up,” he’d said, voice monotone, but eyes sharp with building anger.

Hal had taken a couple steps toward him then, closing the space between them to just an arm's length of separation.

“Is he waiting for you? I bet he is. Maybe I’ll have a talk with him.”

“Dude,” Stan had tried to interject, “back off!”

But Craig had shot him a look of warning and said to Hal, “You’ll talk to him over my dead body.”

Hal had laughed a little at that, and Craigs eyes narrowed.

“I’ll tell that little queer just where he can-”

But whatever Hal had been about to say was lost in the crack that was Craig’s fist colliding with his jaw. And now Hal was coming toward him like a train, and Craig felt like he’d been hit by one when Hal’s shoulders connected with his stomach- the air knocking from his lungs in a great whooshing of breath.

They fell to the ground, grappling, and Craig ignored the smarting he felt on the back of his head as it smacked hard on the concrete floor. Instead he focused on pushing the large teammate off him, hand at his fat throat and leg kicking his shins. He was unable to avoid the fist that collided with his face though, and he knew there was no way he’d escape a black eye from all this. He managed to get the upper hand though, using some unseen momentum to roll on top of his bully and press knees into his ribs.

He hit him then, wailing on every inch of the boy's body he could get to, heavy hammer falls onto face and arms and gut. He was shoved back after a moment, ass connecting hard with floor, and the two adversaries stood quickly, to ready to face off once more.

But the coach was there then, drawn by the commotion, and they had to listen to a yelling lecture about fighting with teammates, and the threat of suspension if they were ever caught throwing punches again.

Craig had only been able of say “fine” to his coach before stalking off, grabbing his bag and changing in a bathroom stall- foregoing the standard shower in favor of leaving the locker room as quickly as possible, anger rolling off him in waves.

Upon stepping into the parking lot Craig realized, as Tweeks eyes connected with his own and a gasp of shock left his lips, that he must look like he’d been put through the ringer. He’d played a long and disappointing game against Greeley, and he’d then, with legs and shoulders already screaming with soreness, gotten into a fight with The Cows star linebacker. He was unshowered and bruised, and guilt washed over him as he imagined what Tweek might be thinking had happened to him- he looked more concerned than usual.

The blonde rushed to him, breaking off from a small group of friends and stopping short to peer nervously at his face.

“Craig! Wh..What happened!!”

He shifted uncomfortably, quickly becoming aware of the pain he was in- his face and head beginning to throb. A quick lick of his lips brought a tinny flavor to tongue, and he realized he was bleeding- lip split open at some point during the scuffle.

“Just a disagreement,” he mumbled, pressing his sleeve to his swollen bottom lip. “The other guy looks worse.”

Tweek jerked in his anxious way. “Jesus Christ! Who the fuck did this?!”

Craig shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

With a glance to the group Tweek had come to the game with he said, “Listen… can we go? I feel like shit.”

Another jump, and then Tweek was nodding, ushering him into the back of his parents jeep he’d “borrowed” while they were out of town, and pressing napkins into his hands with an order to hold them to his bleeding lip. Craig had laid out in the back seat a bit, watching the lights of the town pass by as Tweek drove them quickly back to his house, pressing his forehead to the window and trying to ignore the way his whole body ached.

He’d been helped out of the car, led into Tweeks empty house and taken to the bathroom, a washcloth replacing the blood sodden napkins and a quickly procured ice pack held to the back of his head.

And then Craig was suddenly _trying_ to focus on the pain. Because it was better to focus on it instead of Tweeks shaking fingers that pushed his matted hair from his forehead, and Tweeks concerned gaze as it took stock of his injuries, and Tweeks lips- pressed together to form a thin line of distress.

Tweek, who made angry little titters about whoever had done this, and who helped him yank off his shirt when he found he could barely lift his arms to do so himself. Tweek, who turned on the shower so that he could stand under hot water and wash away blood and dirt, and Tweek, who had a mug of hot tea and Advil waiting for Craig when he emerged- dressed in sweats and sagging with exhaustion.

And Tweek, who led him gently to the air mattress he’d set up by his own bed, forcing him down onto a clean sheet and draping him with fleece afghans, refusing sleep and instead sitting on his own bed and watching Craig closely to be sure he didn’t stop breathing, waking him every few hours in case he had a concussion.

It was better to focus on pain. Better to ignore the feelings that built like a tidal wave of emotion inside him.

Because Craig couldn’t let Tweek know...

Not about this.

 

* * *

 

 

_Junior Year, Third Quarter_

 

Tweek loved the water. He loved the way he could cut through it, arms spread and legs kicking as he raced to the other side of the pool. He loved the sounds of splashing water, the smell of chlorine, the echoing whistle that signaled his win over both North Park and Thomas Jefferson's top swimmers.

A win. Tweek was a winner. An _undefeated_ winner.

The sheer wonder that came from this was nothing next to the satisfaction. Tweek found that he quite liked being good at something. And even more, he liked being confident in that something, too.

Star athlete. Tweek Tweak was a _star athlete._

Jesus Christ.

He emerged from the water, arms deliciously aching from his record shattering breaststroke, smile wide as the emcee announced his victory. Near him, in the small set of stands, his parents gave a resounding cheer, and as Tweek took off his goggles and swim cap with a wet snap, his eyes connected with Craigs.

He was smiling.

With a leaping of his heart, Tweek met him at the side of the squat bleachers, Craig throwing a towel in his face with a nasally laugh.

“You won!”

Tweek draped the towel over his head, shoulders twitching, and smiled. “I won!” he echoed.

He wanted to hug Craig. Wanted to grab him and jump excitedly in the circle of his arms. Wanted to pess his wet chest to his dry one and see the dampness that would transfer onto Craig's grey Broncos tee.

Fuck, he wanted to kiss him.

Instead he ran a hand through his own wild hair- kept moderately dry by the cap he wore- and averted his gaze from the boy that stood before him.

If he hadn’t, he might have seen Craig’s eyes sweep appreciatively over his wet body, see his flushed cheeks as he lingered on the sight of his black speedo. Might have seen him lick his lips, and press his nails into the palm of his hands- leaving crescent moon indentations on his skin.

“I...I, ngh, shouldgoback to the team,” Tweek said on an exhale, green eyes shifting nervously from Craig to his waiting team. “Kyle competes next.”

Craig nodded, but they both stood before the other, unmoving.

“You were really great,” Craig finally said, and Tweek could feel his cheeks burn.

“Ngh! Thanks!”

Without thinking if it was the wrong thing to do, Tweek reached out and grabbed Craig's hand, giving it a squeeze. He thought that would be it, had even begun to step away from his tall fake boyfriend, but Craig gripped his hand back and tugged, and before Tweek knew what was happening, he was locked in an embrace.

It didn’t last long, but it was hard and fierce, and was long enough that Craig had enough time to whisper, “I’m proud of you,” before releasing Tweek and stalking quickly back to his seat.

Tweek watched him go, eyes wide and heart stalled, before a blown whistle made him jump and his sluggish euphoria was broken.

As he returned to his team on unsteady legs, Tweek thought that he might have found something he liked more than winning. Something he loved more than the water.

 

* * *

 

 

_Senior Year, Prom_

 

Craig hadn’t been sure if he was even supposed to go to prom. Dancing had been something he had purposefully avoided, only having done it once at a wedding when his cousin had pulled him onto the dance floor to sway awkwardly to Etta James’ _At Last_.

But he’d seen Tweeks sidelong look when they’d been asked about attending, and Craig had guessed that it was expected they should go. Everyone thought they were boyfriends, after all.

The asking had been less than inspiring. He’d caught Tweek in the hall between a class and had said, “Wanna go to prom dude?”

But Tweek had smiled and nodded, rushing off to Spanish and leaving Craig to wonder if he was excited about going to the dance, or about going to it with him.

Probably not the latter.

Still, in the coming weeks Craig realized that everyone around him was making a big deal about this, his parent gushing with excitement and his friends rattling off restaurant suggestions, and he’d been forced to order a boutonniere for Tweek that matched his black suit and blue tie.

It was then that he realized that Tweek would also be wearing a suit, complete with an orange bow tie and cumberbunt that his mother had picked out, and Craig wondered if he was as prepared for this sight as he was when Tweek was in a speedo.

Fuck .The fucking speedo.

He almost wished he could tell Tweek to just wear _that_ to prom.

Every swim competition he went to, he had to sit and stare at Tweek in that damn speedo. Had to watch a tall lithe body propel like a fish through the water. Had to see droplets of water drip down his shoulders and run over defined abs. Had to watch as girls who sat near him in the stands giggled and whispered at the sight Tweek provided, jealousy rearing its ugly head as he glared openly at them.

Fuck. He hoped the suit was ugly.

But there was no such luck. Tweek picked him up in the old red jeep he no longer had to borrow, his parents having given him the vehicle as a reward for all his success on the swim team. Craig had watched him pull into his driveway, emerging from the car with a container holding an orange boutonniere and a suit that did things to Craig that not even a speedo could. He’d had to excuse himself to the bathroom for five minutes, splashing his face with cold water and trying to get his racing heart under control.

When he’d emerged, Tweek had looked vaguely concerned. But then they had awkwardly pinned the flowers they’d purchased for each other onto their suits, Tweeks hands shaking so badly that Craig had to take the task over so that the boy didn’t stab himself with the pin. And then pictures were taken, and this took much longer than it should have with Craig's parents “oohing” and “ahhing” over “how handsome and grown up,” they both were.

And then they were in the jeep, and had driven just down the road, back to Tweek's house to take more pictures, this time by Tweek's parents who also “oohed” and “awed” over the two of them.

And from there they had driven in mostly silence to the Olive Garden South Park had just recently acquired, and they’d had dinner with some of their friends, Token and Nichole, and Stan and Wendy, their sweaty hands only briefly clasped together as they hurried back to the jeep after dinner.

Then it was on to the part Craig dreaded the most. They entered the High School gymnasium to the sound of catchy pop wailing on the speakers, balloons and streamers covering what seemed like every inch of available space, and white lights strung from one corner of the room to the other to drape over the dance floor. They’d taken _another_ picture at the doors, standing shoulder to shoulder under an archway decorated with pink and white flowers and topped with a cardboard cows head.

“Hey, you two are in Bronco’s colors!”

Craig could tell Tweek was pleased that Kyle had noticed, he smiled and shoulder bumped his friend, who was attending stag with Kenny, Cartman, Clyde, and Jimmy. They had killed time chatting, loosely holding hands and avoiding the gym that thrummed with music and movement.

And then, both unable to loiter at the door any longer, the two entered the revamped gymnasium and proceed to steadfastly ignore each other for most of the night.

It wasn’t normal. Craig could always count on Tweek and himself being more or less at ease with each other. But Craig also couldn’t bring himself to feel any less awkward about the situation, acutely aware that the entire hall was charged with romance and expectations. The most he was able to do, it seemed, was make quick, embarrassing eye contact with Tweek before looking away quickly to hide a blush that he couldn’t seem to keep from his face.

God Tweek looked good.

Craig instead talked with friends, refilled his plastic cup with punch, and hid in a bathroom stall for most of the night.

It wasn’t until the end of the evening that Wendy and Bebe had cornered the two of them.

“You haven’t danced once!” Bebe had cried indignantly.

“Come on guys, it’s the only prom you’ll ever have!” Wendy had coaxed.

They’d made hesitant eye contact before Craig had shrugged, and Tweek had twitched and made a jerky head nod, and they had taken each other's hand and made their way onto a crowded dance floor.

Just like some cliched movie, a slow song began just as they settled on a spot on the dance floor, piano notes playing out the first chords of Alicia Keys’ _If I Ain’t Got You._

Craig didn’t know what he was doing. It embarrassed him to no end that he was so inept at moving his feet to a slow rhythm. But he pushed down the feeling, instead focusing on where his hands should go. The two of them went through at least three false starts before they settled on one hand on a waist, the other on a shoulder, oppositely mirroring each other.

Fucking awkward.

Tweek twitched, shoulder jumping under his hand, and Craig looked down between them to focus on his feet- convinced he was going to trod all over Tweek's shiny new dress shoes.

“You look, ngh, reallynice!”

Craigs head shot up to look at Tweek, realizing that in his focus he’d shuffled much closer to Tweek than he’d meant to.

“Oh…” It came out much breathier than he’d meant, trapped momentarily in Tweek's gaze. They seemed to simultaneously blush, cheeks reddening and eyes averting. But something had started to build in Craig's chest, and he’d found himself gripping onto Tweek with a needy press of his fingers- found his chest inadvertently pressed to Tweek's as they swayed to the music. Holding his breath, feeling as though he was having an out of body experience, Craig let his chin dip a bit so that he could rest his face on the side of Tweek's head- blonde hair soft on his cheek.

He heard Tweek's sharp intake of air through his nose, felt the blonde's fingers dig into his shoulder blades, and suddenly Craig felt emboldened. He dipped his head and felt his own lips ghost over the shell of Tweek's ear as he whispered, “You look great, Tweek.”

The boy in his arms jerked in surprise, and Craig felt his heart pound quickly in his chest when Tweek's nose brushed the side of his neck, hot breath seeming to lick his skin as he replied with a hesitant, “Really?”

As if having a mind of their own, Craig's arms tightened around Tweek's midsection, pulling him impossibly closer.

“It’s no speedo,” he said with a breathy laugh- realizing too late that this was an admission of things never said.

“Y-you… you like the speedo?!”

If he looked into a mirror, Craig knew he’d be red from the neck up.

“Uh… sure,” he responded lamely, head tipping to hide briefly in Tweek's wild mass of soft hair, tall body bowing over Tweek so that his upper body aligned with the blonde’s chest and shoulders.

_‘Some people want it all, But I don't want nothing at all, If it ain't you baby…’_

The lyrics reached his ears in a wave of irony, and Craig had sudden a wild thought.

_Tell him this is real for you_

The need to say the words hit him so hard that he stopped dead.

“Craig?”

Tweek whispered his name, pushing his shoulders to look at his face, and Craig wouldn’t have been surprised if what he’d been thinking wasn’t as obvious to read as an open book.

Craigs eyes roamed over Tweek's face, settling on his lips of all places, and he could almost hear Tweek's breath leave him.

“Tweek… Tweek I think I-”

They’d inched toward each other, eyes now holding in electric hypnotism, and Craig was close enough to see the gold flecks that cut through the green of Tweek's iris’. He was jostled by another couple before he could finish his words though, and Craig realized the song was ending, and he’d just been about to make a colossal ass of himself.

“You think _what_ ,” Tweek was asking him urgently, and Craig wondered if he was imagining the pleading way his eyes bore into him.

After a brief internal dialogue that warred on how he should respond, Craig settled for, “I think I’m ready to go.”

He might have been able to lie to himself about a lot of things that night, but the look of disappointment on Tweek's face when he’d said those words had never been one of them.

 

* * *

 

 

_Senior Year, Graduation_

 

Tweek threw his cap, ducking as the mass of black graduation hats rained down towards him, laughing nervously when they all narrowly avoided pelting him in the face.

Next to him, Craig held his hand, and Tweek felt a burst of personal victory rush over him.

He’d won. High School hadn’t torn them apart, as he’d thought. In fact, he and Craig had stayed exactly the same. They’d supported each other in academic endeavors, had encouraged and cheered each other in their respective electives, and had continued to have an easy relationship that consisted of video games, late night chats at the all night diner, and casual hand holding.

None of which was enough.

Tweek tried to push this feeling away, push the ugly thought that perhaps High School had won after all, but it persisted to no avail. His elation deflated all at once as worry plagued him. He was happy to have Craig, that was a certainty, but for how long? Tweek had mentioned his recent acceptance into The University of Denver on an academic scholarship a few weeks ago, and since then Craig had seemed happy, if not more quiet than usual. For Tweek, it was a dream come true. He’d get out of South Park, away from his family and the business they expected him to take over, and he’d get to continue swimming competitively.

Somehow, though, Tweek knew that if Craig asked him to stay, he would. He hated change, and this change would be the worst of all. Losing Craig… it felt like he was about to voluntarily agree to getting his arm hacked off with a butter knife.

Without even thinking, Tweek looked up at Craig and shouted over the roucous of noise that surrounded them.

“Come to Denver!”

Craigs attention pulled to him immediately, brows raised in surprise.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Tweek said, having to raise his voice even more now to be heard- people were attempting to exit the huge amphitheater, and the school band had begun to play the graduating class out. “Come to Denver!”

Tweek felt his whole body lurch in a spasm, and he gripped Craig's hand more tightly.

The boy before him hesitated, black hair mussed from the graduation cap.

“Tweek… I got in at Boulder.”

Tweek felt his heart drop, landing near his feet like a heavy mass of bricks.

“B-Boulder?”

Craig looked guiltily down at him. “They have this Astrophysical and Planetary Science program and… and I can get a PhD… Tweek, I know we’ve always assumed that Denver… That it would be Denver. But…”

Tweek didn’t think he’d ever seen Craig this nervous. This unhappy.

“You don’t owemeDenver, Craig.” He said it quickly, tried to make it sound sincere, but there was a hint of acid and hurt in his voice that he was unable to stamp out, and it was clear that Craig noticed.

“Besides,” Tweek added, trying desperately to appear nonchalant. “We won’t be far. We can keep in touch.” Tweek tried to remove his hand, but Craig kept it caught in his own with a tightened grip.

They locked eyes, and Craig hesitated before saying, “This is real.”

He’d nearly yelled it over the noise, and Tweek found that the words seemed to have pierced his chest as if they were physical.

“Wh-wha-”

“-You know it’s true. It’s been true since fourth grade and you know it.”

Tweek felt his heart race. “You’re going to Boulder,” he whispered. “You’re going to Boulder, and I’m going to Denver.”

Craig must have heard him though, because he leaned toward him and replied, “So come with me.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Boulder University, Freshman Year, First Day_

 

Alone.

 

Craig was alone.

 

He held his head in his hands and tried not to cry.

 

* * *

 


	2. Always You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So fuck the Astrophysical Program. Who gave a damn about a dream when a boy with a twitch and a smile was all he would ever need."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here's the deal. This chapter is filthy. Absolute trash. If you don't like that, please only read the first section, then SKIP Craig's whole bit, and go all the way down to the little blip of conclusion. 
> 
> But honestly this is just absolute pornography. You've been warned.

 

* * *

 

_I Think We’re a Love Song_

 

* * *

 

 

_The University of Denver, freshman year, End of the First Semester_

 

Between the coffee cups that littered the desk, and the clothing strung haphazardly on the floor, it was a wonder that Tweek's dorm mate hadn’t complained sooner. The fellow freshman, a boy with dirty blonde hair and the brown eyes so dark they bordered on black, had been assigned to share space with Tweek. His name was either Chad or Stefan (Tweek could never remember), and Tweek told himself that he probably wasn’t so bad.

But it was obvious that the boy hated Tweek. He’d huff and sigh and tisk upon entering the room, his face painted with obvious disgust at the state of Tweek's side of the shared space. And when Tweek twitched and jerked (God, it happened so much more now than it had before… with Craig), he’d shy away, as though he were embarrassed just to be in the presence of someone that was not in control of their body.

Tweek had realized very quickly that he and- was it Roger? Matt?- that they had very little in common. Drinking and whoring seemed high on his roommates agenda. And while that might not be so bad, the first week of school Tweek had been hounded about “scoring” with “girls.”

“Not interested,” he’d said with a tick of his shoulder and a spasm of his eye, trying and failing to stay casual.

But it hadn’t taken much for (fuck, Tweek was pretty sure his name was Lance) his roommate to figure out that Tweek was gay, especially upon seeing the photo of he and Craig from prom that Tweek had wedged into the corner of the corkboard that hung over his desk. The picture was the one taken when they had been in South Parks gymnasium, the two of them standing shoulder to shoulder under the lattice archway, surrounded by all that pink and white and looking…

Looking in love.

Tweek had studied that picture more than he had any book this first semester, ignoring the disgusted face of his nameless roommate, who now treated him as though he had leprosy. It was full of things he had never noticed. Craig, with his black suit and his blue tie, the orange boutonniere pinned proudly to his lapel like a badge of honor. The half smile he was giving, with ethereal blue eyes trained down at Tweek. And it was that look on his face, directed down at him, that made Tweek's hands shake. Not from any sort of caffine high, but from a racing heart and a swirling mind. Had that always been the way Craig had looked at him? That look of wonder, and happiness?

Craig looked at Tweek like he was in love. And Tweek...

It startled him, to really examine the picture now. Who was this boy in Tweek's skin that looked so shiny and carefree and full of joy? He looked like a beam of light, huge smile plastered over his face that made his eyes crinkle at the corners, on his tiptoes in obvious built up excitement.

Happy. He looked fucking deliriously happy. Like Craig was the sun, and he the moon shining with his light.

And now?

The image in the mirror didn’t look like the boy forever trapped in the photo. It looked like a poor imitation, a hollow shell that a person used to live in. What he once had been seemed to have fled, his body uninhabitable. All that was left of Tweek Tweak was a tangled blonde with bloodshot eyes and nervous ticks.  

He was falling apart. Every fiber of his being, every ounce of his flesh, it seemed to be quaking with a physical pain.

“ _You know it’s true. It’s been true since the fourth grade and you know it._ ”

They were words that plagued him. They kept him up at night. They echoed in his ears- even when the music that he pumped through his headphones was deafening. Craig’s face seemed to loom in his mind, racing to the forefront at every given opportunity.

_“This is real.”_

Tweek would lay awake at night, wondering what the hell he was still doing in Denver. Wondering why he didn’t get in the Jeep and speed as fast as he dared to Boulder. Fuck the scholarship. Fuck the swim team. Fuck the fucking University where he was forced upon a bigoted simpleton as a roommate. Tweek would clutch his pillow, teeth clenched to keep from crying out as heartache spread from his chest and consumed what felt like his entire body- undoubtedly leaving its mark on Tweek like dark ink spilled onto paper.

His roommate was not impressed.

Tweek had been given an official citation, which stated infractions such as undisposed refuse and messy living quarters. The Residence Director had instructed him sternly to wash his clothing and dispose of the empty coffee cups, and Tweek- embarrassed and jumpy- had wanted to crawl under his bed and die. Instead he had made himself clean up his mess, and on Saturday he’d traveled home, to South Park, in need of a free washer and dryer and knowing that he was due for a visit with his parents.

But being back in South Park, if only for this short while... it was hell. Every turn reminded him of Craig. There was the street they’d first held hands, deciding to go along with the ridiculous idea that they were dating. And there was the theater- a dark place where Tweek had barely been able to pay attention to any plot on the screen before him- not with Craig’s knee pressed against his own. And there, his eyes unable to ignore it, was the South Park Diner, the place where they’d stayed so late talking that more often than not night would creep into early morning- Craig watching him with unreadable eyes.

And that whole time Tweek had been thinking that he was silly for developing feeling for Craig. He’d chastise himself, reminding himself constantly that Craig was straight. That Craig certainly wouldn’t fall for someone like him. That Craig was just a really good friend- his best! But that there would be nothing between them, not ever.

But now...

_“This is real.”_

Now Tweek knew.

It had always been Craig.

It was Kyle who found him, hidden under the sheets of his twin bed and ignoring the world around him. He entered with a hesitant knock, and when Tweek had emerged from the covers he had almost been able to hide the shock of seeing Tweek for the first time in months.

“Your parents let me in. You look… Fuck man, you look like hell.”

Tweek glared at him.

“Thanks,” he said with a bite, grimacing and wrapping the covers around his shoulders.

Kyle sighed and shut Tweek's door, stepping over old styrofoam coffee cups and choosing a seat at his desk chair. He eyed a pile of mail, picking an envelope up that was addressed to Tweek in neat handwritten scrawl.

“You okay man?” he asked, nails edging over the unopened lip of the envelope.

Tweek jerked, eye twitching, and tried to shrug off the frustration that came with the spasms. This really hadn’t happened so much with Craig, nor had the convulsions been so intense.  

“Fucking, ngh, peachy,” he replied, face sour.

Kyle raised a brow.

“You know,” he began, and Tweek could just hear the forced casualness of his voice to know he wasn’t going to like whatever it was Kyle had to say. “Craig looks about as good as you do right now.”

Tweek tried and failed to keep the eagerness from his voice when he replied, “ _Craig?! What_ \- I mean, ngh, whatdoyoumean?!”

Kyle gave him a little smirk and leaned back in the chair.

“He looks like shit. Dark circles under his eyes, hair about an inch too long. … A weird smell coming from him, which probably means he hasn’t showered in ages.”

Tweek pressed his lips together, bringing his legs up to his chest to stare forlornly at his knees.

“I really don’t get it,” Kyle said. “Why can’t the two of you have a long distance relationship?”

Tweek made a face that bordered on looking as though he was in physical pain and said, “I don’t think… I don’t think that… after all this time… that I can stand the thought of the awkwardness…” Tweek let his sentence trail into nothingness and shuddered.

Kyle’s nose scrunched in disgust. “Yeah, that doesn’t make sense Tweek.”

Tweek made a sound of frustration. How did he explain it to Kyle? The oddness of not having Craig at his side? The shift from fake boyfriend to real? How could he ever hope to explore a relationship with Craig when they’d be so far apart? The swimming season would start soon, and Tweek knew that any free time would be spent studying and sleeping. Add in Craig's enormous class schedule and a half hour commute, and they’d barely see each other. What sort of chance did a relationship have, especially a new one, without the needed ingredient of time spent in each other's presence?

And, if truth were told, Tweek was angry with Craig.

Angry with him for lying, for never admitting his feelings toward Tweek, (and Tweek ignored the fact that he was just as to blame for this injustice). Angry with him for applying to Boulder and not telling him until it was too late to make changes. Tweek was angry that he was left with a shit roommate who hated everything about him, and who narced on him the first chance he had.

Tweek was angry that he felt so helpless without Craig, was angry that his shaking and nervous twitches had multiplied the moment he’d left his side.

Tweek felt weak and dependent.

But mostly, Tweek felt alone.

“He left, Kyle. Not me, _him_ . He knew I was applying for Denver. He _knew_ that they were giving me a scholarship, and he applied for Boulder anyway.”

Kyle gave him a hard look. “Don’t be selfish, dude. Craig is getting a degree in what he loves, you can’t expect him to give that up.”

Tweek scowled. “He should have told me.”

“Yeah, probably, but he also probably knew how excited you were to go to Denver.”

Propelling the chair closer, Kyle added, “He’s fucking miserable Tweek.”

Feeling mulish, Tweek glared at Kyle and snapped, “It wasn’t, ngh, real anyway. Why should he be so, _nyeh_ , _sofuckingsad_?!”

Without warning, Kyle reached out and punched Tweek’s shin.

“ _OW_!”

“Stop being a fucking bitch dude!”

“What the hell!”

He lifted a fist again, and Tweek shuffled away from arm's-reach, covers tangling in his kicking legs.

“Stop being so stupid,” Kyle snapped, eyes knit with anger.

“Don’t call me stupid!”

“You’re stupid!”

“I’m, ngh, I’m _notstupid_!”

“So _stop acting stupid_!”

Kyle stood, looming over Tweek's huddled figure.  

“If you actually thought it was fake, you’re fucking stupid,” he said, using the unopened letter he still clutched like a pointer- jabbing it towards him with every punctuated word. “Everyone knew you two were the real deal, and if you and Craig didn’t know it, then you’re both idiots.”

Tweek scowled, rubbing his shin. “Well, maybe it was real for me,” he screeched, “but I didn’t think Craig felt the same!”

Kyle slapped his forehead. “Oh my god, you guys are fucking leptons.”

“Tch, you’re English major is showing,” Tweek said, voice dripping with childish insult.  

“Shut up, Tweek,” Kyle groaned, flopping back into the desk chair. “God you guys are stupid. How did you _not know_?”

It was almost as though he were talking to himself. The question was more rhetorical than anything, and Tweek found he could only look down at his bedding, studying his grey comforter with feigned interest.

Why did he suddenly feel shame? It seemed to creep up his neck and burn at his cheeks.

“Craig loves you, dude. You have to know that.”

Tweek bit his lip and did not reply.

But the answer seemed so clear now, standing on the outskirts of it as he was. They’d been inseparable. They’d only seemed to work together. How could he not have seen it? How could Tweek not have noticed that Craig, all that time, had felt exactly as he had?

He remembered the prom photo, and a tightness seemed to build in his chest.

Kyle was right, he was stupid.

“I see you’ve got brochures to Boulder,” Kyle said, picking one up from the desk and adding it to the envelope he'd been toying with.

“So?”

“So I saw Craig last week. He’s got some too… for Denver.”

Tweek’s heart raced.

“He can’t come to Denver,” he said in a rush.

Kyle scowled. “Why?”

“Because! He just, ngh, hejustcan’t!”

Kyle’s eyes narrowed. “Great fucking reasoning man,” he intoned, voice dry and waspish.

“Ngh! I can’t go to Boulder. I can’t… I can’t _fuckingaffordit_! The scholarship is for Denver. And Craig… I looked into-ngh! - I looked into the program he’s doing, the science one. He won’t-” He had to stop for a moment- a violent jerk of his body cutting him off, before continuing hurriedly, “He won’t get a program like that at Denver.”

Kyle narrowed his eyes, seeming to judge whether or not it was worth a continued argument.

Quietly, Tweek added. “I’d feel guilty, if he left for me. But I don’t… I don’t think…” His eye twitched, his shoulder jerked, and Tweek sighed in pitiful frustration. “I don’t think I can keep this up.”

Kyle’s brows lifted a bit in surprise. “Oh?”

“I think… I think I’m going to drop out.”

Kyle’s surprised expression did not change, so Tweek continued, “I hate my roommate. I’m already failing all my classes. I fucking-ngh! – I _fuckinghatethesetwitches_!”

He stopped to catch his breath, heart racing with anxiety. “I can’t afford to go to school at Boulder… but I could get a job… maybe. … I’m not like this with Craig. I’m not so-” he twitched as if in punctuation of his point, and it made his eyes prick with held back tears of distress. “I think… Kyle, I think I’m broken without him.”

It took him a moment, lost in self-pity, to look up at Kyle, wanting to gauge his expression.

Sorrow was stretched on his friends face. “I hate seeing you two like this,” he told Tweek, hands clenched around the envelope now, crushing it in his fist. “I hate that one of you has to give up on something, just to make it work.”

Tweek shrugged. Five years ago, when the coffee shop had been doing better business, Tweek knew that he may have been able to get a degree from Boulder University without some sort of scholarship. But his parents were struggling, on the brink of bankruptcy, and for now it was impossible. Boulder lacked a swim program and Tweek knew his grades weren't nearly high enough for an academic scholarship (certainly not a full ride, as it was now in Denver).

“I don’t want Craig to give up anything,” he told Kyle. “Besides, he probably doesn’t want-”

“He does,” Kyle interrupted. “He absolutely does, Tweek.”

They sat in silence then, Tweek wondering if he could give up his love for swimming in exchange for his love of Craig, and knowing that he would. It didn’t work without Craig. _He_ didn’t work without Craig. He might be holding onto anger, but he knew it was irrational, knew it was petty. He could forgive Craig. He could let it go.

He _had_ to let it go.

“What even is this?” Kyle asked suddenly, breaking Tweek from his thoughts. He was looking at the white envelope, which he had held for the entirety of their conversation, with budding curiosity. “Who is Dan Reed?”

Tweek squinted at the envelope that Kyle was now smoothing on his knee, handwritten scrawl crammed neatly in the margins.

“I don’t know a Dan Reed, it’s addressed to me?”

Kyle nodded, holding it up to the light as though he might be able to glimpse the letter inside.

“Ngh! My parents have just been throwing my mail up here, but I haven’t checked any of it since I left for Denver,” he said, then added, “Just open it.”

Kyle did, fingers deftly sliding open the tab and producing a small packet of stapled papers from inside. He unfolded them, eyes scanning the top page quickly.

Tweek was about to ask what it was when Kyle startled him by jumping from the chair and yelling, “ **_HOLY SHIT!_** ”

Tweek stood too, his reaction naturally to panic. “What? _What?!_ ”

“ _HOLY FUCKING SHIT_!”

Kyle thrust the paper to his chest, eyes wide with excitement.

It took only a moment of looking over the paperwork for Tweek to also loudly exclaim, “ _HOLY SHIT_!”

 

* * *

 

 

_The University of Boulder, Beginning of the Second Semester, Freshman Year._

 

Craig was already packed. He’d shoved what felt like his entire life into one small duffle bag, and it sat by the door of his small one bedroom apartment, waiting for him.

He couldn’t take it anymore. No college degree was worth the guilt of leaving Tweek behind. Regret and panic seemed to weigh on his chest like a living thing, resting on top of him with the intent to crush his heart.

_“Come to Denver!”_

It fucking plagued him. Those words, they kept him up at night, kept his mind working long after his body ached for rest.

Craig wasn’t stupid. He’d known that, in his own way, Tweek had confessed to him all the things that neither of them had ever said. That in that one sentence, Tweek had said that he had feelings for Craig.

_“Come to Denver!”_

God, the memory of his face was seared into his mind. Tweek's excited, nervous proclamation of so much more than an invitation to follow him plastered on his face. And Craig had _left him_. Craig had gone to Boulder for a degree that meant little if the exchange was giving up his boyfriend.

His fucking _boyfriend._

He knew that it had never been fake. Knew it had never been a lie. He thought that he had probably known this for a while now. Tweek had been his boyfriend, and Craig had been a pretty fucking shitty one in return. He’d applied to Boulder without telling him, he’d made plans to leave without even asking if Tweek would care, and he had fucking left him like a stray without a home after Tweek- full of hope and promise (and love?) - had asked him to follow him to Denver.

So fuck the Astrophysical Program. Who gave a damn about a dream when a boy with a twitch and a smile was all he would ever need.

It made his heart hurt, _physically ache_ , to be so far away from wild blonde hair and chlorine soaked skin. Now, even the faint smell of coffee would make his head swirl, make his brow break into sweat. The sight of their prom picture, taped to his dresser mirror, made him want to break into sobs. Fuck, had _anyone_ ever been as happy as they had been in that picture? Had a smile ever been as wide and open as Tweek's had in that moment? Had a look like his own, full of fucking ridiculous _adoration_ , ever graced anyone else's face?

He’d tried to forget Tweek. He’d thrown himself into school, had excelled in all his classes. He’d forced his body to get out of bed every morning, to function with what felt like a lost appendage. He’d even tried to talk to girls, tried to push away the need for the boy from South Park. It had been a colossal disaster. Pretty feminine faces with long dark hair and flawless skin… they had made his skin crawl. Their hands on his had felt intrusive, their conversations forced.

They were trespassers on another's possession.

And then the thought had wandered into his mind. Was Tweek doing this? Was Tweek trying to forget him? Was he throwing himself to girls or (oh jesus) boys, even? Was another's hand holding his? Was another's arms wrapped around his shoulders?

He hadn't dated any after that. He hadn’t even _talked_ to anyone since then. He couldn’t stand anyone even touching him. And just the imagining of some phantom figure taking his place with Tweek…

It made him see red. Made him want to break bones and lash out with harsh words.  

So fuck Boulder.

_Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it, fuck it._

Shoe laces tied, ball cap firmly placed on his head, Craig shouldered the waiting duffle bag, ready to travel to Denver and find Tweek. Ready to give up a dream ( _a stupid fucking dream_ ), in replace of gaining… everything.

Tweek was fucking _everything._

And then he opened the door.

And there he was. Arm raised as though he’d been ready to knock. Shoulder twitching and eyes bloodshot. Hair fucking wild and unkempt.

Craig stood rooted, feet cemented to the spot, a body in atrophy.

“ _Tweek?_ ”

He’d said it on an exhale, the word an astonished whisper.

The boy before him looked startled.

“H-hey.”

They stood, staring, and Craig found that all the words he’d been prepared to say had flown from his mind.

“Tweek? … Tweek, what are you…?”

Tweek gave a hesitant smile. “Kyle gave me your address. I hope you don’t mind-”

“Mind?” Fuck, _why_ wasn’t his brain working? Why wasn’t his mouth working?

Tweek shuffled, suddenly looking one hundred times more uncomfortable.

“Y-yeah. _Ngh_ , I needed… Craig, I have to tell you something.”

He looked like he was going to say more, but Craig, knowing his words were never going to come out the way he wanted them to ( _tell him you love him)_ , dropped his bag to the floor and took matters into his own hands.

He grabbed the boy, fingers digging into his shoulders, and pulled him into his arms. His head dropping to Tweek's neck, his grip tight and encasing.

“Are you even _real_ right now?” He asked, face pressed into Tweek's collarbone as though he thought he could bury himself in it, and he felt… fuck, he felt tears drop from his eyes.

“Craig?”

“I’ll go with you,” Craig heard himself say, and yes, there was that choked voice that he had never wanted anyone to hear, much less the blonde now held forcibly in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” Craig lamented, teeth clenched as if he could stop the wave of emotion. “Fuck, I’m _sorry_.”

Tweek jerked a little, and his voice came out startled when he asked, “Craig, are you crying?”

Craig held him tighter. “No!”

Tweek laughed, and Craig might have been offended if Tweek’s arms didn’t finally ( _finally_ ) raise and hold him back, fingers pressing into his back.

“I dropped out,” Tweek said, and his body seemed to relax into Craig's frame at the words, as though a weight were lifting from his shoulders.

“No,” Craig whispered, “No, don’t do that. I was going to. I was… I was…”

God, was this really him right now, crying so hard he couldn’t even fucking talk?

Tweek's hand rubbed comfortingly over his shoulders.

“You’re too late, I already did it. Jesus Craig, you didn’t drop out too, did you?!”

Craig sniffled a bit and shook his head. “No, I was going to find you first. I thought maybe… Maybe you found someone else?”

Tweek laughed again (really, Craig felt he should be offended at this point) and replied, “Seriously dude? Who the fuck would put up with me?!”

“ _Me,_ ” Craig insisted, voice hitching and muffled around his shoulder. “ _I’ll_ put up with you.”

Tweek pushed at him, forcing him to lift his head.

“Look at me,” he said softly.

Craig did, embarrassed beyond belief as Tweek raised a hand to wipe away tears from his cheeks.

“Jesus, don’t cry you big baby.”

Craig laughed a little, forcing himself to take a shaky breath. He raised his own hand, forcing Tweeks palm to stay cupped to his cheek.

“You’re really here?” he asked, and his voice was a little stronger now, his words less frail as he asked them. “You really dropped out?”

Tweek gave a small nod. “I did.”

“What about the scholarship? What about the swim team?”

Tweek shook his head, “I decided it wasn’t worth it. Plus… Craig, something happened. Something… something _fucking amazing._ ”

He beamed up at Craig then, and god, Craig felt like the sun was shining on his face, felt like rays of light were soaking into his skin.

“What happened?”

Tweek shook his head. “We’ll talk about it.”

They just looked at one another then, eye contact refusing to break.

“I have fucking _missed you,_ ” Craig finally whispered, his voice rough and full of desperate sincerity, and Tweek smiled even wider.

“You’re telling me, dude. I drove my dorm mate fucking nuts.”

They stood in silence again, Tweek's hand pressed to Craig's cheek, and Craig felt so goddamned happy he thought he might explode.

“This might be the gayest thing ever,” Tweek said with a little smirk, and Craig finally felt himself grin.

“I don’t even fucking care,” he replied. And then he was kissing him, both hands on Tweek's cheeks, shoulders lifting forward into the kiss, hat tipping up his forehead, lips pressed needily to Tweek’s- as though if he didn’t do this now he might wither and die.

He heard Tweek's sharp intake of air through his nose, his startled hum, and then he was kissing him back, a hand carding through Craig's hair to push the ball cap from his head, the other hand gripping the back of his neck and pulling him closer. Craig felt his mind go blank, felt time stop. His toes curled into the soles of his shoes, his spine wracked with electric pulse as though he were a conduit for energy. His whole body felt as though it had been set on fire, a heat that he never wanted to douse, a thirst he never wanted to quench.  

“ _Fuck,_ ” Craig whispered when they finally broke apart. “ _Fuck.”_

Tweek exhaled and nodded, his face still pressed in Craig's hands.

“Don’t stop,” Tweek mumbled, tugging at the back of his neck. “Please…”

The words ran through Craig like a knife, and he felt himself burn hotter, felt his heart beat faster. He kissed him again, hard. His tongue slipping between Tweek's lips, and he tasted toothpaste and espresso, and fuck, how long had he wanted this? How long had he fantasized about this? Lain awake, hand moving with frantic need, panting over this?

Without breaking the kiss, Craig pulled Tweek through the threshold of his doorway, kicking at his front door so that it half closed behind them- his bag still forgotten on the floor- blocking the frame so that it would not shut.

“Did you bring all your shit?” Craig asked, his lips moving against Tweek's, refusing to break contact.

Tweek's tongue darted out, and Craig felt his whole body shiver with the contact of tongue on lips.

“Yeah, everything.”

Craig smiled and moved his mouth to Tweek's jawline, his neck, lips pressing to his pulse point, his hands running down his shoulders and chest to grip the hem of his t-shirt.

“Great, because you are never fucking leaving this apartment.”

Tweek laughed at that, but the laugh turned into a startled moan as Craig nipped lightly at the place where his shoulder and neck connected.

“N-never?”

Craig shook his head. “A month, at least.”

Tweek hummed again, raking nails over Craig's scalp, voice teasing as he asked, “What are we doing in the apartment for a month?”

Craig straightened in Tweek's arms, hands still clutching the hem of his shirt. “What the fuck do you think we’re doing?”

Tweek laughed happily, and Craig took advantage of his temporary distraction to lift the shirt and begin to pull it over the blonde's head. He stopped halfway though, the sight of a bared abdomen halting his progress. Craig ran his thumbs over Tweek's stomach, nails lightly scraping each defined line of muscle that had been gained from years of competitive swimming, and his whole body seemed to seize with lust when Tweek gasped and keened at his wandering hands.

“Fucking…” Craig couldn’t finish the sentence, wasn’t sure what he’d even been about to say. Had he always burned this intensely for the boy in his arms? How ( _fucking how_ ) was he not reduced to a pile of ash by now? With a breathy gasp of yearning that Craig wanted to hear for the rest of his life, Tweek helped him with the shirt, yanked it off himself and threw it to the floor, but he stopped Craig when he tried to continue kissing him.

“Do you… Craig wait a second. Do you know what you’re doing?”

Craig stared at him, hands on Tweek's hips, lips swollen and breathing shallow.

“What?”

Tweek narrowed his eyes and reached up a hand to flick Craig's forehead.

“This,” he gestured, indicating their aligned bodies with a wave of his hand.

Craig’s mind could only produce a sluggish question mark. Tweek, seeing the unknowing stare, took Craig's hips in his hands, squeezing them and pulling towards his own. A hardness pressed against him, and it made Craig want to collapse. He couldn’t breathe. Had he ever known how? Craig heard the loud moan that was his own (fucking god, he sounded ridiculous), and dropped his head to Tweek's shoulder, gasping for air as though he’d suddenly had it knocked from his chest.

Tweek held his hips close. “Craig, have you ever… have you ever had sex?”

His voice was unsure, hesitant, and Craig lifted his head to stare at Tweek.

“Are you fucking serious? I’ve been with you since the fourth grade.”

“Well I don’t know!”

Craig’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, have _you_ had sex?!”

Tweek jumped a little, eyes wide as he nearly shouted his answer. "No! Who the fuck would I have sex with?!”

Craig felt relief spread over him like a wave, his posture relaxing in Tweek's arms. “We can figure it out… right?”

Tweek shrugged, leaning forward and kissing the side of Craig's mouth.

“I’ve seen… you know… _porn_ ,” he replied, tone nervous.

Craig chuckled, head dipping to nuzzle Tweek's neck, hands running up and down Tweek's arms.

“Want a tour of the house?” He asked suddenly, and he could see the confusion written on Tweek's face.

He stepped quickly away from him then, having the cognizance to pull his duffle bag from the doorway and shut and lock his front door.

Craig kicked off his shoes- aiming them toward the closet. “Here,” he began, turning and taking Tweek's hand. “Let's start with the bedroom.”

Tweek snickered, seeming to understand immediately Craig’s motive, and he let Craig pull him down a short hall and into a dark room. It was small and had an unmade murphy bed that had never been pushed back into the wall. Craig kicked at the clothing on his floor, wishing he’d picked up more and finding solace in the fact that Tweek had never been able to keep a clean room, and therefore probably wasn’t judging him.

“This is the bedroom,” he intoned to the blonde, and Tweek snorted with amused laughter, tugging Craig’s hand until their lips collided once more, tongues enweaving. Craig felt Tweek's hand run under his shirt and sucked in air deeply through his nose as fingers splayed and caressed his bare chest.

He drove Tweek farther into the room then, sitting the blonde on the edge of the queen size bed, glad now that he had foregone the standard twin most students ended up getting. Trying to push down a sudden wave of nerves, Craig took off his shirt, startling a bit when he felt Tweek reach out and grab him by the belt- pulling him closer.

“Jesus,” Craig mumbled, finding trouble keeping his knees locked and his posture upright as Tweek unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. There was something about watching Tweek pull down his zipper, his eyes flitting up to meet his own, his expression one of silent permission, that made Craig come undone. He nodded down at Tweek, biting his lip, wondering if anyone had ever cum from a look alone.

His jeans pooled at his ankles, and Craig was left in only red boxers as he kicked the pants across the room. His erection was obvious, the underwear tented, and Craig watched Tweek eye the unseen appendage and tried not to feel self conscious.

Tweek, cheeks burning and pointedly avoiding eye contact, hooked his thumbs between the boxers as though he might also remove them, and Craig quickly took his hands, stilling them and looking down at the blonde.

“Tweek…” he was breathing hard, trying to catch his breath once more and force his brain to work. “Tweek, wait. You don’t have to… You don’t-”

Tweek scowled up at him, an annoyed expression stretching over his face.

“Shut the fuck up Craig.”

And then Craig’s boxers were off, and his cock was fully erect and tipping up towards his stomach. Tweek, hands still on Craigs hips, urged him forward, gaze on the appendage that was now at his eye level.

“Jesus Craig, seriously?”

Craig gave a breathy laugh, mirroring Tweek's previous sentiment by saying, “Shut the fuck up, Tweek.”

And then Tweek's tongue darted out, swiping quickly across the head, and Craig felt his legs begin to shake.

“Ah, f-fuck.”

Tweek looked up at him, clearly trying to gauge his reaction, and then repeated the movement of his tongue across the head of Craigs cock.

“Fuuck.”

Craig panted it, and Tweek's eyebrows quirked before he pressed lips to the underside of Craigs shaft, hands still gripping his hips as though they were anchors.

“T-teeth,” Craig managed to choke out. “Watch… watch the teeth.”

He moved a hand to the back of Tweek's head, hand running through soft, wild hair, and Tweek jerked away from him.

“Keep you hands off my head, Craig!” he warned.

“Sorry! Sorry!”

“I’m serious, Craig. I’ll fucking beat the shit out of you if you force my head down.”

Craig laughed a little, then laced his fingers together and put them on the back of his head, elbows jutting like wings.

“No touching,” he agreed, voice sounding as though it had been put through a grater.

Tweek nodded, and then his mouth was back to Craig's dick, and now he was running his tongue over the underside of the shaft, and then lips over the head, and then farther down the length of him, and Craig couldn’t help the jerk of his hips- hands gripping tightly over the back of his head- at the feel of delicious friction. Tweek removed a hand from his hip, holding it at the base of his cock, using it to guide his movements- Craig too large to even think of fitting completely down his throat.

This lasted for only a few moments, before Craig choked out, “Stop! Tweek stop!”

He did, a popping sound issuing from his mouth as he released Craig’s cock, and Craig had to step back quickly, his fists lowered- clenching and unclenching at his sides in an effort to keep himself from falling apart completely.

“W-what’s wrong? Was it bad?”

Craig didn't trust himself to speak, only shook his head and focused on breathing, on not thinking of the tantalizing images of Tweek’s slowly bobbing head that threatened to overrun him.  

Finally he was able to choke out, “I’m not… I’m not gonna last long. _Jesus._ ”

A glance at Tweek's face saw a look of pleased triumph, and Craig rolled his eyes at him.

“Get undressed, asshole,” he grunted, trying and failing to sound grumpy. Instead it came out breathy and eager- but it did bring back Tweek's nervousness. He jumped and blushed and sputtered at Craig's order.

Craig strode to him, urging him back and following him to the middle of the bed, looming over the blonde and capturing his lips in his own, intent on erasing the nervousness that had spread over Tweek's features, instantly deciding he disliked the thought of Tweek feeling uneasy with this situation.

Craig removed Tweek's clothing, starting with his shoes, then sliding off jeans and leaving him in black briefs that reminded him of the speedo he’d always worn during swim meets. His cock strained the material, nearly as large as Craig's own and much thicker, and Craig felt a shock of apprehension run through him. How in the fuck was anyone supposed to get this much inside of them?

“We’ll go slow,” Tweek assured, propping himself up on elbows to look at Craig, pupils blown wide with lust, answering the unsaid question that must have been written all over Craig's face.  Craig nodded, pressing his lips together and pulling off the briefs.

Then they both lay naked, and when Craig leaned to meet Tweek's lips their cocks slid against each other, and he couldn’t even begin to hold back the involuntary hiss of lust. He reached down a hand, gripping Tweek and pumping slowly, the velvety texture both familiar and new all at once. He slid his thumb over the head, slick with precum, and Tweek tittered and hummed with need.

“I love hearing you moan,” Craig mumbled between kisses, his own cock twitching against the fist that was busily working Tweek, twisting his wrist and eliciting the same sounds from the blonde once more.

Suddenly Craig was flat on his back, Tweek hovering over him and grinning.

Craig might have smiled back if the next words out of Tweek mouth hadn’t been, “Let me fuck you.”

Eager and powerless, arousal coursing through him at Tweek's words, all Craig could do was nod.

They’d had to stop, Craig having to stand and find the small bottle of lube located in his side drawer, Tweek watching him with a fervid gaze.

“I’m surprised that you have that,” Tweek had commented, nodding toward the now procured lube, suddenly thoughtful.

Craig felt his neck and cheeks go red, standing next to the bed with the bottle in his hands and stopping in his tracks.

“Uh… I might… I might use it…”

“To jack off?”

Craig bit his lip. “Yeah… and… you know. Other stuff.”

Tweek looked suddenly excited. “What _kind_ of stuff?!”

There was a pregnated moment of silence, Tweek eager and Craig hesitant, before Craig- mildly mortified- replied with mumble, “I have… you know… a _toy._ ”

He’d whispered the word toy, eyes staring down at the carpet as though he hoped it might open a void and swallow him up.

He heard a small little gasp, and when he looked to the bed it was to see Tweek, on his knees and gripping his own cock, hand sliding down the length as though he couldn’t help himself. He looked at Craig like a lion who’d sighted prey, and Craig felt a tremor run down his spine all the way to his feet as Tweek said, “Show me.”

Shocked out of mortification, Craig shook his head. “Fuck no Tweek!”

The lust had cleared enough from Tweek’s eyes that he was able to successfully frown. “Don’t be so gay! Just let me see it!”

Craig shook his head again, smothering a chuckle at Tweek’s nearly childish tone. “Fuck off Tweek, it’s our first time!”

“So?! I wanna see what you fuck yourself with!”

Ignoring him, Craig came back to the bed, flopping next to Tweek and pulling him down for a kiss.

“Stop trying to distract me,” Tweek huffed against his lips, and Craig’s gave him a little half smile.

“Later,” he mumbled. “You can see it some other time.”

Tweek sighed, shoulders jumping a little. “I like, _ngh…_ I like seeing you blush,” he said, nuzzling Craig’s neck, teeth grazing the shell of his ear.

Craig sighed in response, his hips moving upward, cock gliding against Tweek's length. They repeated this for some time, the room full of breathy moans and hitching voices, each keen to urge the other on, each murmuring words of endearment.

“You, _ngh_ , you _feelsofuckinggood._ ”

“I’ve thought about this for years.”

“I want you.”

“I love you.”

Craig had said it, had known what he was about to say and was sure, absolutely _sure,_  that it was the right thing to do. He’d never meant anything more, had never needed to to say anything more, than he did in that moment.

Tweek froze above him.

“Say it again,” he finally said, sitting up, eyes unable to pull away from Craig’s as he picked up the lube and spread it on his fingers. Craig felt his cock jump, and his spine stiffened as a slick finger prodded his entrance.

He said it again, his words melting into a sound of ecstasy as Tweek pushed his fingers into him.  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he exhaled, grabbing Tweek's shoulders and holding onto them as though they might keep him grounded.

Tweek began moving his fingers, and Craig pressed his lips together, clenched his teeth.

Leaning so that his lips were at Craig's ear, Tweek whispered, “Don’t do that, let me hear you.”

“Nah! Fuck, _fuck_.” Craig might be embarrassed later, remembering his incoherent words, remembering the way he’d ground his hips, but in the moment he could only feel exquisite need.

Tweek added a finger, and Craig felt himself begin to unravel.

“Curl… curl your fingers,” he instructed with a shudder. “Press, ah! Press up!”

Tweek did, and Craig’s nails dug into his shoulders, a curse turning into a writhing sob of desire. Unable to speak, he tapped frantically on Tweek's shoulder.

Tweek halted his movements, and Craig nodded.

“I’ll cum if you… just… just…”

He trailed off, breathing hard, but Tweek seemed to understand. He pulled away, fingers leaving him to only moments later be replaced with something much larger. He entered slowly, and Craig felt stretched, his ankles wrapping around Tweek's waist, heels digging into the small of his back.  

When he was completely inside him, Tweek stopped, hands flat on either side of Craigs head, eyes closed tight as though he were trying to focus on anything but the sensations that were threatening to overpower him. His breath came in great huffs, sounding as though he’d just run some momentous marathon.

“This… Fuck this is gonna be quick,” he groaned, and Craig pulled him down by the back of his neck, crashing his their lips together and lifting his hips to urge him on, ignoring the slight pain and embracing the speedily building arch of pleasure.

Tweek angled himself, one hand moving to Craig's lower back and pushing him up, thrusting into him faster, tongue moving to lave at the hollow of his throat, and Craig shouted when Tweek’s cock swept over his prostate, the bark of sound only identifiable as an exclamation of trembling ecstasy.

Craig tried to tell Tweek, fingers digging into his skin, but he was rendered speechless, and it only took a handful more of inelegant thrusts before Craig moaned his climax, spilling himself onto his own stomach, dick twitching in a satisfied ache.

Tweek pumped harder, thighs making a crude slapping noise throughout the room, and with only a dozen more strokes he seized in orgasmic bliss, breath held and cock pulsing inside of Craig, seeming to ride the wave of climax for eternity.

They stayed like that, trying to catch their breath, hands caressing mindlessly. Eventually Tweek left him, moving slow and collapsing beside him, arms splaying in satisfied exhaustion. Craig stood, stumbling to his bathroom, head in a fog as he quickly cleaned himself off, wetting a washcloth and returning it to Tweek.

They lay spooned together, drifting into an indelible slumber, Craig feeling boneless and beyond satisfied as he wrapped his arms around Tweek.

As he drifted, he heard Tweek's sighing voice say, “I love you too, Craig.”

And then they slept.

* * *

 

_Six Hours Later..._

 

“Holy shit! The Olympics?!”

Craig’s question cut through the room, loud in the small space, and Tweek felt a flash of joy run through him at Craig’s enthusiastic tone. They’d woken hours later, and after slipping on underwear and retrieving a bowl of popcorn and bottles of water, they had climbed back into the murphy bed to chat easily into the night.

“Not yet,” he told Craig. “I have to qualify. In two months there’s the FINA World Swimming Championship, and I’m registered to compete! I have to work my way through a bracket, and if I place, they’ll add me to the American Olympic Roster.”

Craig had wide, excited eyes. “Holy shit,” he murmured, clearly impressed.

“I mean, hundreds of swimmers will be trying to qualify,” Tweek assured, cheeks red at the look of pride being directed at him. “And I haven’t trained as much as them. I only have two months to get into top shape but… I want to try.”

“Well no shit!” Craig intoned, pulling Tweek closer to him, hugging him to his side. “Jesus Tweek, that’s fucking awesome! That’s _amazing!_ ”

Tweek gave a nervous little laugh. “I probably won’t make it.”

Craig scoffed and pinched his side, “Fuck off, you absolutely will.”

Tweek swatted at his hand, “Stop that!”

But he was happy. So deliriously happy.

Tweek told Craig about Dan Reed then. The man was a scout, and the previous swimmer he’d managed had suffered an injury that would keep him out of the water for the next year. He’d remembered Tweek and his record breaking breaststroke from a visit to South Park in Tweek’s junior year, and he’d been trying to get ahold of him since, determined to coach an olympic swimmer.

“He says it’s a long shot, that I’ll have to train like crazy these next two months to even have a chance at qualifying… but…”

He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. But Craig seemed to pick up what he was hesitant to say, because he supplied; “But it would be really fucking cool to go to the Olympics.”

Tweek blushed and nodded. “It would be fuckin’ sweet dude.”

They sat in companionable silence then, both lost in easy thought, before Tweek said softly, “I’m supposed to cut back on caffeine.”

Craig gave a short bark of laughter. “Welp, you’re fucked.”

Tweek felt his shoulder twitch and frowned. “That’s what I was thinking.”

Craig shook his head, still smiling down at him, and pressed him closer. “Nah,” he said with dismissal. “You’ll be great. I’ll help you cut down.”

Tweek frowned up at him. “It’s gonna be hard.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Pfft, seriously!”

Craig hummed and shrugged. “So? You’re capable of more than you think, Tweek. You can do this.”

It was like a flashback to his childhood. To a ten year old Craig saying nearly those exact words to him.

He smiled, laying his head on Craig’s shoulder, entwining his fingers to hold tightly to his hand.

“You’re right,” he replied on a sigh. “You’ve always been right.”

Because something had changed Tweek.

And it had always been Craig.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, this little fic has ended. At some point in the future I would like to add some stand alones- one of which would see Tweek competing in swimming again, and obviously would provide more smut. 
> 
> Also, I really don't know how the Olympics work, so pretend this is somehow feasible. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed! If anyone ever wants to do any art, I would pay you in the form of a short story to see that damn prom picture. 
> 
> Comment, please! I love hearing from you!! Errors will be fixed as I catch them!

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on tumblr @ morning-sun-brah  
> ..........I'm lonely af. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are just the best.


End file.
